A Heartbeat Away - Michael Palmer [5]
“No!” Allaire shouted. “Tend to the doors! The doors!”
He could see, to his horror, that people were already nearing the exits from the chamber, and he knew they would all have to be brought back in, by force if necessary. Several more agents arrived.
They’re just trying to get me to safety, Allaire told himself. But they don’t realize that there is no place safe to go.
There wasn’t time to explain.
Allaire twisted his body hard to the right, breaking the hold of the agent positioned directly behind him, while simultaneously seizing the lapels of another agent’s suit jacket. He pulled the man to within inches of his face, making certain his orders would be heard over the escalating din.
“Call and get the exits out of the chamber secured right now! Lock them down!”
“But sir, we need to evacuate.”
“Listen to me! Nobody is to leave this building. Absolutely nobody! Get everyone who leaves the chamber back inside right now. It is life and death. Do you understand?”
“But—”
“I said, do you understand?!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I want guards posted at every exit. Shut down the elevators to the gallery level, and block those doors as well. Have guns drawn if need be and use them if you have to. Nobody gets out. No exceptions.”
“But sir…”
“Dammit, do it now or go sit down!”
The president’s face was flushed. He could feel the arteries pulsating in his neck. The agents guarding him peeled away, as if from a football huddle. Chief agent Sean O’Neil was just a few feet away, barking orders into his radio.
“Sean,” Allaire said, motioning the man closer, “we’ve got a lethal situation on our hands. A virus. Get three of your guys to the press gallery and confiscate all cell phones, pagers, and anything that might record or transmit. Use force if you have to. Tell them I’ll explain soon.”
O’Neil hesitated, a shadow of doubt darkening his face.
“Mr. Pres—”
“Don’t challenge me, Sean! Move now!”
The cries of those in flight intensified as Capitol Police and Secret Service agents moved into position and began the difficult task of herding them back inside the House Chamber. Allaire estimated that no more than twenty-five or thirty had actually made it out the doors to the vestibule. His wife and daughter remained in front of their seats, two of the few who weren’t in motion. Then he saw Rebecca cough several times. Further down the row she was in, a congressman from New Hampshire was also coughing.
Allaire searched for the plumes of smoke nearest to his family, but by now, the mists had almost totally dissipated.
I am responsible for this, he thought, forcing his way back to the rostrum. I should never have allowed it to happen.
“You can’t block these exits!” a senator’s familiar voice boomed. “Let us out!”
“They can’t do this!” a woman cried. “They can’t trap us in here like this!”
“What the hell is going on?”
“I won’t go back in there. I won’t!”
Sweat, something Allaire had felt certain would not be an issue tonight, cascaded down his brow, stinging his eyes, then salting his lips.
“Mr. President—”
Allaire turned toward the voice, which came from the center aisle, along which, just a few minutes ago, he had made his grand entrance. The architect of the Capitol, Jordan Lamar, a portly African American man, was pushing toward him through the dense crowd.
“Mr. President—” Lamar called out again.
Allaire motioned for the man to hurry. Together on the rostrum they were joined by Hank Tomlinson, chief of the fifteen hundred men and women of the Capitol Police force.
“What the devil is going on, Mr. President?” Lamar asked. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere. No one is. Now, listen. I need every person back in his original seat immediately. Make sure every door leading to the outside is sealed. No one gets in and no one gets out. I mean no one.”
It was hard to hear over the clamor behind them in the main chamber and a story above in the gallery. Now there were also some shrieks as word spread that the ways out were being sealed.
“Sir, I don